


I will save you (though you need to help me)

by We_live_in_the_shadows_for_too_long



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, kinda spoliers, power inbalance, similar to movie theme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8594527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/We_live_in_the_shadows_for_too_long/pseuds/We_live_in_the_shadows_for_too_long
Summary: Modern setting to the movie, though it deviates as the main focus is totally on Credence and Graves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like it

With the medium strain of rain the words of his colleagues are but a hum in the distance, or more lack there of words. The remains of a street lay before them, old high apartments in pieces across the road and pavement, the rain of course does not help this cause as whatever remains of the belongings of the people who lived there irreversibly destroyed.

Gliding his hand along his slicked back hair he can do all but sigh tiredly, of course this would only be one of many incidents that had occurred that year.

“I thought by now there would be some sign of a creature” a voice says from somewhere on the ground below him. Pivoting from one leg to another he tries to contemplate the others words, oh if only they knew what he did how foolish they would think they would be.

Head half way to looking at the person who yelled a sudden and powerful wave of something magically ripped at the remains of the building next to his, bricks and metal slamming into the ground with a sudden and loud banging. Almost fluttering in his step the wizard manages to barely keep steady of his feet.

It lasts for what seems like minutes but soon enough it stops, though the shock of the event makes everyone stand still eyes staring at each other heavily.

Well we do not have all day to find out more about what is happening, come on guys get to it” Graves yells hands above his heads. 

Soon enough people are scrambling about, wands out and repairing the damage. With a shallow sigh he jumps off the pile of wreckage, allowing an awaiting witch and wizard to fix up the building in a way only magic could allow.

His fingers itching for a smoke he rubs his face instead.

He knows he is running out of time to find the child, and that cannot happen.  
*  
Closing the door roughly the loud echo fills the air of his empty apartment. A swift throw and aided with a helpful spell helps the keys land soundly in the bowl by the door, the suitcase following suit though a spell is not added and instead it just lightly hits the side of the wall before going to where it is needed. 

The apartment is fairly sparse. Out of all the things in the lounge room before him are a coffee table and an alright couch he does not use much of. A wordless spell and his tie effortlessly glides off his neck, his jacket following suit as they glide into a folded form on the empty coffee table. 

A ping from his phone reminds him of his never ending job, ignoring the phone in his distant jacket pocket he instead wanders over to his kitchen. It is just as sparse as the lounge room with but a fridge, pantry and oven, somewhere in one of them an aging coffee maker he is sure.  
The familiar ding rings in his ear before he even make it to his fridge, and not even a second later the phone is hovering by his ear. With a growl he swipes it from the air shoving it into his ear he does not bother to answer as he silently listens. 

“We need you back in the office Grave’s, you know how it is” a generic voice says. 

“I’ll be there soon” he says briefly before shutting his phone.

Looking up towards the clock on the wall he frowns slightly.

(10:30 pm)

There is still time left for the appointment but he hopes he doesn't have to cut it close, the kid doesn’t like it when he comes late.  
*  
Poofing in front of an alleyway may seem weird to most, though thankfully the street is beyond clear at this point. Disregarding the drunk and unconscious people who linger on the street but of course. The time on his watch helpfully reminds him it is almost midnight. 

‘Please tell me he had not left yet’ Graves thinks rather annoyed fixing his tie with an insistent tug.

He hears Credence before he sees him, shallow and shivering breath. With the usual hunch leaning against one of the alley way walls. The shivering boy almost jumps out of his skin as Percival poofs up behind him hand clasping his shoulder. 

“Hey” Grave murmurs voice as gentle and comforting as he can manage while sounding not over the top. “Are you okay, did anything happen today” he adds in hand going to cup his face. 

Credence thankfully leans into the touch rather than putting his head onto the wall.

When he does not answer his question the wizard takes this as a sign to reach for his hand instead, and as he fears the usual marks are on his hands.

“Why on earth did she do this today” the older man asks softly near the younger man’s ear. 

“One-e of the kids didn’t hand out the amount of fliers she wanted I guess” he responds closing his eyes as a finger goes to stroke his cheek bone.

However the actions stops as Grave’s finger only lightly stays under his right eye. Silently he does the usual and patches up the wounds on his hand, as usually Credence’s breath spends up ever so slightly (Perival would have to lie to say that each time he didn’t get some sort of rush of power as he does this).

“Just remember what we promised, you find the child and then I can save you from this pain” whispered barely to hearing level to the younger male from the elder. 

Before the other can react he poofs into air, though a small amount of liquid coats one of his fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

Wrapping his arms around his middle the young man paces carefully in front of a dodgy looking apartment complex. With a worn door, not to mention cracking paint it looks closer to a brothel than a home for misplaced children.

A deep breath is but of course taken for comfort.

'You are okay, she is most likely asleep. You can do this' a familiar mantra he has said for awhile now. (He couldn't take credit for its making, though the brief red that tinges his checks when he remembers who did makes it close enough).

Soon enough pacing becomes not enough so with a deep breath he stops in front of the door, specifically in front of the door handle.

It feels colder in his hand, perhaps it is because it is so late, or maybe it's the anxiety of it all.

Slipping the key in the rusting lock it is quite a challenge as his hand shivers and shakes ever so slightly. The sound of the lock opening makes his heart jump into his mouth though thankfully no other noise is added to it so perhaps he is the only one currently awake.

Unsure feet make their first step in as Credence uses his left foot ever so slightly to test his step. When the ground doesn't immediately swallow him while he does it with his right, then left again until he is half way into the common room.

  
Among the other mess the usual clutter of leaflets spread across the long oak table. From the spell of the room the ink has set for more than two hours or so, maybe bedtime had been earlier for his mother.

A sigh of relief later he is trailing off to the small crevice of the house he calls his own. The small attic having only a mattress and bedside table don't faze him like others instead joy at something that is /his/.

Gently slipping in the bed he ignores how the lumps in the mattress make his back ache.

Stretching with his right hand he easily finds a small piece of styled wood, a bit of broken wand fashioned into something more.

"Just find the child, just find the child" muttered softly as he falls into deep sleep.

*

"Credence could you please hold my leaflets while I go to the toilet" a high pitched and younger girl asks.

By his credit he doesn't have to turn around to know who it is, a newer girl named Angela who seems to have not quite gotten one of the biggest rule.

/No using the restroom unless you have handed out more than half of your leaflets/.

Those words are on the tip of his tongue as he turns around to remind the girl but tears are seemingly about to pour down her face and the way her legs shake and quiver remind him of himself.

'If she finds out you'll get it' the young man reminds himself as he looks into the girls eyes.

Still he holds his hands out and scoops them up ever so gently, "just be careful okay".

Before he has time to add onto it she is dashing off, thankfully their mother can not quite see the breaking of the rule.

Looking down to the leaflets he sighs disappointed, from an almost done pile to a bigger one then he started oh his luck. Closing his eyes he thinks of god and the calmness his mother says he can get from him.

/Though if he is honest thinking of Mr Graves is much easier and does more than he will ever tell his mother/.

Snapping out of his almost sinful thoughts he stares deeper at the pile in his hands, he can do that easy.

With shacking steps he finds himself in a middle of an uninterested crowd, uninterested was too strong they barfly noticed him at all. Almost every eye was glued to a smart device much to his displeasure.

Though as he slipped a loose leaflet into a purse a positive was thankfully found for the mindless walking people.

Without meaning to his eyes move to the five or so girls who are handling out fliers with more success. It was not in a weird way he would reassure himself, but a small splatter of jealously crossed his mind.

If he found out one of them were the thing Mr Graves was looking for would he still have that promise.

"Thank you do much Credence, I owe you one" a voice says from under him, it round seem the girl did not attend to ditch him with the fliers after all.

This would seem to have been said too loud and at the wrong time as a familiar pair of judgemental eyes weighed heavy on his figure.

'I hope she at least doesn't get blood on it this time' he thinks fully handing another flier to an uninterested person.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it just something to keep this going :)
> 
> Thank you all for the support thus far it means a lot.
> 
> I'll probably post another chapter and one shot tomorrow. Does any one have any prompts they wanna see done ?


	3. Chapter 3

After a while he thought he'd be use to the floor boards itching at his legs. Rotting away dusty floorboards offer him no comfort as he lightly flinches after each hit with the belt.

"You know the rules" and another hit, "it's your fault for this if only you'd be a good boy".

Tears glaze his eyes and he barely doesn't bring his hands closer to himself.

"Credence it's always your fault, I'm just trying to be a good person and this is what you do" she shrieks bringing the belt down.

The next hit is the worst as it crosses across two marks.

Prayers start to bloom in his mind as another hit is readied. Though they are quickly replaced with sinful thoughts of his closeted friend.

/were they friends though, it was hard to say but he hoped they were at least as close as he felt they were/.

It's silent and still for a moment. Though it is just another second till the worst and last hit lands.

"You just should have done what I told you to" she growls walking out of the room.

Curling into himself he sobs.

X

Gloved hands make it impossible to hide fliers into the passerbys handbags. So it would seem giving them out the old way would have to do.

Credence can't help but wince as he tries to flip and flip the pieces of paper around. His voice wavering as he says the mantra his mother made sure each knew off by heart.

Something must be happening as there a few people wandering around the street. Not even a working day is this bad for foot traffic.

Silently pouting he tries to hand out more fliers.

X

It would seem his mother wanted to talk with someone

X

"Mr Graves it would seem this problem is worse than we could have feared" said by one of the generic voices of a minister.

In front of them in form of a crumby torn down building he can still see a the light traces of magic. It has began seemingly the night before.

/A couple hours after he had left Credence he wondered if the child had seen something happen to his boy/.

"It would appear so" he grunted back trying not to roll his eyes.

On the ground level people waved wands in special flicks and curves for luring monsters.

The image of a child sticking to a wand came to mind and made him sigh.

"These are happening more often, and the more it does the worse the buildings are getting there's only so much these no mags can be fooled about" Percival sighed.

/it didn't help that it happened so close to Credence's street, what was that child doing wrecking havoc so close to home? Most likely not worrying about the beatings he helps him with/.

"Now my Graves I know I said it was bad but we have this, the beast can't be too far away now".

X

Percival was just about to go visit Credence when he gets the call about the politician dying.

X

Waiting in the alley most of the night had meant a great number of things. One being his mother gave him a few new hits to his hands, two the children seemingly had a smaller pile of leaflets to himself and third the absence of his usual visitor.

The lack of healing on his hands were nothing new, but his heart still hurt dreadfully. It was embarrassing to admit but the lack of contact has his skin hurt more than the hits.

Lightly hissing as he shuffled papers in his dirty gloves he almost missed the stare. Though looking up it was hard to miss it. A light tinge of red took his cheeks.

"Me-" before he finished there was a hand on his shoulder and he was away from the alleyway.

Looking down he sighed at the absence of his fliers.

"Credence" Mr Graves hissed in the softest way one could hiss, his hands already slipping off the gloves. "I need to you hurry up and find this child, I am running out of time".

Looking down at the worsening marks Graves sighed.

"My boy it looks like you are too" without another word he is healing it. Bringing the newly healed hand he places a soft kiss atop, "please I want to save you" before he can protest he is back in the other alleyway alone.

Wiping tears from his cheeks he gathers up his papers. A rush in his step as he goes to where he saw the children going.

 

 

 


End file.
